


Children dream of silly things

by Dinkdidnothingwrong



Series: Bonzo needs a competent guardian [1]
Category: Ender's Game - All Media Types, Homestuck
Genre: Amoro tries to dad. whether it works is up to you, Bonzo's had a loooong day, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, death mentions, this is part of my crap au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 11:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18342941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinkdidnothingwrong/pseuds/Dinkdidnothingwrong
Summary: Children have silly fears. Wolves, heights, supicous men....though certainly no child is haunted by death.





	Children dream of silly things

Nightmares.  
Every child had their problem, from picky eating to over attachment to a stuffed animal. Most were relatively small, predictable, easy to deal with…  
Screaming children were not.  
Amoro patted his son on the back, shushing him as he bawled into his shoulder. Tiredly he gazed up at the clock on the wall, which blinked 3:45 a.m. at him. What was this, the 5th night? Checking in the bathroom mirror, Amoro sighed at the bags under his eyes. There were a near identical pair forming on his wife’s face. But thankfully the little one seemed to be calming down and maybe this would be the last night. Yes, this would be the last night of Bonzo’s nightmares. Laying Bonzo in his bed, Amoro felt with undeserved certainty this would be the end of such terrible dreams. At least, the ones that caused his son to scream and beg for his parents. Something in him worried about what exactly happened in these dreams, but Bonzo wouldn’t tell either of them, so they were probably just the usual fears of children. Wolves, heights, suspicious men, silly things. Children always dreamed of silly things.  
At least most did.  
It wasn’t screaming that awoke Amoro the next night. No, it was quiet sniffles, sniffles he wouldn’t have even heard if he hadn’t been home late in the first place. Haphazardly throwing his perfume soaked coat in the washing machine, he hurried down the hall and into Bonzo’s bedroom. He was tangled in his sheets, plush frog pulled close and tear-stained. “Oh little one…” Amoro whispered, gently rubbing his son’s back. But Bonzo shook off his hand and scooted away from his father. “Bonito?” He just scooted farther, sitting at the very edge of his bed as he tried to put as much space between them as possible. “Bonito what’s wrong?”  
“I died.” Amoro stopped. What…what did he say?  
“Excuse me?”  
“I died!” Bonzo cried, tears rolling down his tiny face. “All my nightmares! I die!” Amoro tried to grab his son, to comfort and hold him. But again he slapped at his father’s hands, shoving him away and backing up off his bed. “Don’t touch me!” He screamed, throwing the tiny frog at his father, who simply ducked. “Get out!” Amoro sprinted out of the room, his wife standing in the doorway to the bathroom.  
“What’s wrong with him?” She asked, her voiced worried.  
“Nothing we can help him with right now. Come on.”

  
“Bonzo?” Bonzo stared at the ceiling, watching it as if it was full of hidden pictures. He didn’t respond when his father pulled his blankets up over him, or when his frog was tucked in next to him. He was crying, but he didn’t feel it, didn’t process it. It was just a constant now. “I know. I’m sorry.” What did he know about what he felt? He didn’t get the bubbles, the sessions, the scar running across his waist and back. He didn’t know what it was like watching Ender lash at you and realizing only then that you weren’t ready to go yet, no matter what the clouds said. He hadn’t woken up on the couch of the house of the man he hated, that he despised-  
“I love you.” Amoro went to leave, but Bonzo caught his arm. He just stared at him for the longest time, trying to make out whether he hated his father or loved him. If he’d been rational he’d known that it was both, that it was incredibly easy to feel both. That he loved the Amoro that held him during his nightmares and gave him everything. That he hated the Amoro who’d soured everything, who’d pushed him to Battle School then the Beta Session. But in this moment Bonzo couldn’t even spell rational, so from the deepest parts of his heart he loved his father, pulling him back and sobbing into his jacket. Amoro lifted his son into his arms again, as if he was still the tiny 5-year old who dreamed of his own death. Now of course, he didn’t need to dream of such things. But he was still fragile, and he still needed his father. “I love you okay? Nothing going to change that little one. Nothing.”

And for some reason, Bonzo believed him


End file.
